


Emerald

by vanceypants



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Flogging, M/M, Nipple Clamps, PIV Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding Crops, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Smut, Spanking, Trans Rich Goranski, bodied squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: Rich overhears his Squip call him vanilla.  Rich is determined to change the definition of his flavor in his quantum computer boyfriend's mind.Rich might be in a little bit over his head.





	Emerald

**Author's Note:**

> 1000% self-indulgent filth. Rich's squip's name is Moses because various reasons and also just because I said so. Thank you all 3 people who took the time to click on this and read (no but seriously, I know this is super niche, but I do appreciate any viewership I can get).

With every lash of the riding crop, Rich lost another sarcastic comment, another filthy quip, another particle of himself. He could feel himself dissolve into pure sensation, nothing but a series of nerves and synapses. Nothing existed right now besides his body, and only the areas that were touched with the implement.

“Color?” The crop rubbed against a particularly tender patch against Rich’s ass. Rich bit his lip, as it caught against raised flesh.

It drew away, and Rich tensed with anticipation of a blow, only for crop to be replaced with hand, a caress against his skin.

“Color, sunshine?” The repetition was more insistent.

Rich unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Everything was pain.

“Green.”

And pleasure.

There was a low chuckle, a smack of palm against the tender flesh of his ass. “You like when I hurt you, slut?”

“Yes.”

Another slap. Rich moaned. Right, he was supposed to- “Yes, sir.”

And he couldn’t help but wonder once again how it had come to this.

***

“No fucking way,” Rich breathed as Jeremy showed off the bruises on his wrists. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Y-yes.” And then Jeremy giggled. The sleeves of his cardigan had been pushed up to the crease of his elbows. A spattering of fingertip bruises glittered against his lightly freckled skin.

“Dude. He’s totally abusing you.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “It, uh, it isn’t abuse.” He began to tug his sleeves down, only for Rich to grab his hand, moving his arm this way and that way to admire the bruises a little more intently. 

“So you guys are totally Dom/sub then?” He wasn’t foolish. If it wasn’t abuse, then it was some sort of sex thing.

Which...clearly Jeremy had expected him to get from the start. A lump formed in Rich’s throat, a glow over his face, and he tried to will his embarrassment at his own naivety and confusion away. He wasn’t some blushing virgin! And he watched enough porn to know this was a thing.

It was just surprising because it was Jeremy, that was all.

“Something like that. I th-think he wants to go 24/7, but, uh, but who has time for that with school and play practice-”

“Oh right. You’re in the musical, huh? When is that?”

Their conversation tapered into talk about rehearsal, about the mild awkwardness of being around Christine after Everything, the general lack of cast members to choose from now that Jake Dillinger was no longer trying to impress Christine by coming around to the auditorium.

“-You still should have auditioned.”

“Not my scene. Especially not with this glaring defect,” Rich pointed at his mouth, by way of indication of his lisp.

It was still bullshit that Moses had stopped correcting his speech impediment. Some shit about letting him blossom into his own person.

Shit was wack.

_Ugh I’m never doing that again._ He told himself while knowing full well he’d end up doing it again, likely within the same span of 24 hours.

As it stood, however, the conversation steered so mundane, and Jeremy’s sleeve-paws had returned into place effortless, so the image of whips and chains and their varying levels of excitement quickly faded from Rich’s memory.

And that would have been the end of it.

If he hadn’t approached his squip to ask if they were about to go home.

Moses stood a good half a foot, at the very least, above Jeremy’s squip. The size was daunting, and likely infuriating to the other bodied unit, his shoulders rolled back, and posture rigid, as though trying to lessen the distance between them. Moses’ long hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, his white suit crisp and pristine and perfectly tailored, his dark skin begging to be bitten.

And that was excitedly what Rich intended to do. A running leap at his back, teeth sinking into his neck. And Moses would likely spin him around, pull him into his arms, greet him with a familiar ‘hello sunshine’ and-

Jeremy’s squip raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on his face, as Moses’ words fully hit Rich.

“-oh no. Richard is too vanilla to be open to that.”

***

Moses rolled Rich onto his tender back. He felt the silk sheets cling to the spaces on his skin which had split from the intensity of their session. 

“Color?”

“Green,” He chirped. He started to throw him a thumbs up, already feeling the bits of himself start to fill in the gaps.

Moses grabbed his wrist, tugging it upward until his arms strained. The cuffs fit effortless, tightening up against his skin. His other wrist joined it, the chain of the cuffs suspended by a bar of the metal headboard. Rich’s fingers curled into loose fists, his eyes blinking at Moses, as he watched him bring out the bar they’d purchased.

Moses smacked Rich’s thigh sharply. “Open your legs, whore.”

Rich apparently didn’t move quickly enough. Moses’ palm raised again.

Rich expected him to smack his thigh.

Instead, he sharply slapped Rich’s cunt, the pain sharp and sudden and startling, and Rich yelped in surprise at the vibrant heat of it more than the pain.

“Faster.”

“Y...yes sir,” Rich stammered. His legs pulled apart, leaving his body a lewd X.

Or really, it was more of a reverse Y. Or some other letter, maybe something cool and Cyrillic or Chinese or hieroglyphics or-

Moses snapped the ankle cuff into place on the left first. It felt tighter than the bonds on his wrist, though Rich supposed that had more to do with his lack of experience with bindings on his legs compared to his arms. Moses adjusted his right leg, until that likewise was snapped into place. The position left Rich helpless, and he instinctively tried to close his legs, only to meet resistance from the immobile bar.

The position left his cunt cold, frigid really, from the way he spread. His clit pulsed, and his fingers twitched with the very real urge to touch himself, or better yet, for Moses to touch him.

Which he did, caressing his leg slowly. His hand rode him, to his thighs, moving down to slide over his inner thigh. His hand rode higher and higher with every touch, and Rich’s wetness glistened shamelessly on his flesh.

But Moses didn’t touch him there.

Rich watched him, transfixed by the touch of his hand moving over his leg. Behind his teeth lay every question, every petulant need to analyze just what he planned on doing.

And then Moses picked up the crop again. Rich grinned, only to have his face slapped, sharply, by the hand that wasn't holding onto the handle.

"What are you laughing at, bitch?"

"Nothing."

Another slap. Rich felt drool wet his lower lip, his world spinning. Discombobulated. Why did he hit him again? What was he addressing?

Oh. Right.

"Sir. Nothing, sir."

Moses grasped his chin, jerking Rich's head to face him again. He looked at him with cold eyes, his hair billowing around his face as he regarded him, turning his face this way and that way. His fingers abruptly pushed between Rich's lips, stroking against his tongue.

And then he grasped it, pulling it out sharply, clutching it between his fingers.

"If you continue misbehaving, I'll have to find a way to silence you. Do you understand?"

Rich blinked, his tongue roughly held between Moses' fingers. 

How strange, to be threatened with silence, when it had been ages of communication which had brought them here.

***

"Vanilla?!"

They stepped off of Moses' motorcycle. Rich had planned his words throughout the whole ride, but now, tearing the helmet from his head, and shoving it into Moses' chest (Moses quickly grasping it, then setting it carefully upon the seat), he forgot all of it.

All except for that one word, so beautiful for a flavor of ice cream, but for a description of a sex life?

Moses' eyes widened in comprehension. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Vanilla! You think I'm vanilla."

He waited for Moses to deny it. To say it had just been a joke between squips. That surely he didn't think so pitifully of his own boyfriend.

But no such words came. 

In fact, Moses' sheepish expression failed to yield any sort of response. Rich grimaced, stomping one foot on the ground. His hands formed into fists, trembling at his sides.

And angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, as his voice cracked.

"I'm not vanilla."

"Sunshine, it isn't a bad thing," Moses said softly. He reached out, to pull Rich into his arms, only for Rich to swivel around, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. He could hear Moses run a hand through his hair anxiously. "I only meant-"

"I'm boring. You think our sex life is boring."

"Of course not."

"That's what it means, though!"

"No it-"

"Yes it does! You can dress it up all you want, but...but...o-okay, I like missionary a lot, Mo. Fucking sue me. I like when you look at me, okay? I like being seen and touched and loved and...and..." Shit. His eyes were really burning. He faced him again, his hands still clenched tightly, one fist quickly swiping at his eyes.

"I like that too. I feel very fulfilled by...sunshine, please, you're blowing things out of proportion."

"Out of proportion," Rich repeated, laughing weakly. "My boyfriend is bored in bed, and I'm being a drama queen about it."

"I just think you're misconstruing it. Jeremy and his partner have a much different dynamic than you're comfortable with."

"Just me though. You'd be comfortable with it."

There was a pause, a hitch, a slow, uncomfortable cadence to his speech. "I wouldn't be opposed to stepping outside of our comfort zones."

"Great." Rich steeled himself. "Then let's do it."

"Pardon?"

"Let's get motherfucking uncomfortable."

***

Moses trailed the cloth blindfold up Rich's body, starting between his legs, over his pulsing clit, then up his stomach, between his breasts, along his neck, his lips, his nose, before he tied it over Rich's eyes. He felt his vision go hazy, streams of light and the shadow of Moses' body barely flickering into view. Rich turned his head this way and that, testing the completeness of his lack of vision.

"That's right," Moses sharply smacked one of Rich's breasts. It smarted, and Rich arched against the bed with a little cry. "You're not worthy of looking at me."

"Sir..."

"Isn't that right?"

How did he answer? What was the proper grammar? It suddenly seemed intensely important. "I..."

There was another smack, this time to his other breast. Rich groaned anxiously, his stomach twisting.

It was a rollercoaster, except he didn't know when his world was going to loop around.

"Yes sir." He finally said. 

It seemed to be the right call. Moses chuckled, pinching his nipple. "That's right. Yes sir." He leaned in, harshly biting the outer shell of his ear. His voice came in husky, and Rich's skin prickled with goosebumps. "Color?"

"Green," Rich trilled the word, lips upturned into a bright smile. 

"That's a good boy. Good boys deserve treats, don't they?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you think you've been a good boy?"

Rich squirmed, as Moses strummed his thumb over his nipple. "Yes sir."

"Do you want to feel the treat your master has for you today?"

"Yes sir."

He felt the bed shift as Moses stepped away from him. His boots echoed against the floor. Rich tried to sit up, but his bindings prevented him from moving.

He heard a clip of metal, an almost poetic sort of twinkling, and then his nipple was twisted, and tugged, before a harsh bite of artificial material clutched onto him.

He'd forgotten they'd bought clamps. Rich's eyes widened behind the blindfold, his mouth yawning open in non-verbalized pain. A chain linked between both clamps, and he felt Moses tug and caress the other nipple to hardness, before giving it the same treatment.

The pressure didn't ebb, the pain didn't fade, and Rich could focus on nothing but the feeling of intensity upon his own chest.

Especially when Moses gave a little tug to the chain connecting them.

"How does that feel, you worthless cunt?"

"Ah!"

Rich wet his lips with his tongue. And he tried to honestly assess it.

God he was so fucking wet. Hearing Moses speak to him like that, feeling his body bubble up towards the limits of sensation...

"Good, sir."

"Then what do good boys say when they're given presents?"

"Thank you, sir. I love it, sir. Than-"

His chin was grasped, and he could feel Moses' breath, hot and close, as he loomed closer to him. His voice was little more than an infuriated snarl.

"Did I ask for more beyond a thank you? I don't want to hear your pathetic voice anymore than necessary. Do you understand me? The only thing I want to hear from you are your cries for mercy and your moans."

Rich was appropriately silent.

So Moses tugged on the chain again. Rich's breasts bounced, magnetized by his nipples.

"I said do you understand me?"

"Y...yes, sir!"

The pressure let up on the chain. Rich breathed a sigh of relief.

He was seriously staining these nice fucking sheets though with his excitement. He wondered with a thrill if he'd be punished more for that show of indecency.

***

"No, Richard."

"What do you mean no?"

"We don't go right into whipping. You're not ready for that."

"I think I know what I'm ready for." Rich clutched his bath towel around himself. They'd shared a shower, a nice shower, and if there was ever a better time to get the shit beat out of him, he certainly couldn't think of one.

God.

He was petrified.

Moses' eyes softened. "No you wouldn't. Come here." He motioned him over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled Rich into his lap, cradling him close. "I don't want to hurt you for its own sake. If we did this, I'd want you to want it."

"People don't want to get beat up, dude. But I'll put up with it for you."

"That's the thing. I don't want you to 'put up with it'. I want it to be enjoyable. For both of us. Besides," He shrugged. "Vanilla is my favorite ice cream flavor."

"It is not. You like, like, that coffee shit. Or cinnamon. But only if it's-"

Moses kissed him. Slowly, that sweet sort of kissing that still brought butterflies to Rich's stomach. He leaned into him, grasping at his shoulders, and feeling his towel begin to slip.

"Oh no," Rich cooed. "I'm starting to disrobe. I guess you'll have to take advantage of me."

Moses nuzzled his nose against Rich's, laughing softly. "Not my style." He picked him up, setting him in the bed, then crawling on top of him. He kissed him again, sliding his hand underneath the towel and dipping his fingers into him.

Rich gasped softly. "So we-"

"-can talk about it after. You're compromised right now. Aroused. Anything you say will be influenced as such. We'll talk in the morning."

It hardly seemed fair, when the whole point of this was based on sex. But Rich could hardly argue as his boyfriend fingerfucked him into oblivion.

***

Rich groaned as the pressure built against him, as Moses pushed the oversized sex toy between his legs. He knew from their shopping trip that it was clear, that it would stretch him open in a shameless manner, and he was grateful in this moment for the blindfold.

It was silly to be embarrassed, but already being so spread with the bar, he already felt exposed. Having a clear dildo pushed into him, keeping him open and visible, just seemed like overkill.

Deliciously taboo overkill.

Of course, Moses already knew every inch of him. He shouldn't have felt any shame.

The pressure popped, as the tip of the toy finally breached him. It pressed into his tight wetness, and Rich felt his body envelop it. It sank in, inch after inch, until finally its massive inches met resistance. Moses stopped, twisting on the toy and humming thoughtfully as he regarded him.

"How shameless of you. You're dripping."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you like this? Being my shameless little whore?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you stay like this forever, if I asked you to? Spread open and whorish for all to see?"

Rich bit his lip, a giddy little smile tugging at his mouth. "Hell yes, sir."

His inner thigh was smacked harshly. "Watch your tongue, cunt. I'm not going to ask you so nicely again."

He wouldn't outright disobey. That would surely be testing the boundaries too far.

"Aw, sir, but it sounds so hot. I can't help-"

Moses smacked his cunt, specifically the mound of him, sensitive with the toy currently stretching him open. Rich's petulance died on the tip of his tongue, as a startled yelp replaced it. He thought that was the end of it, but he spanked him there again, and a third time. His skin felt so hot, and Rich's eyes were wide, stunned, behind his blindfold.

"Are you done being a brat now?"

"Uh huh."

There was another smack. Rich scrambled for proper verbiage.

"Yes. Yes, sir."

"And after I've been so nice to you."

He heard the crop smack Moses' hand, retrieved again, never forgotten.

Rich gulped. The smacks on his back still ached. He was certain it would be even more sensitive from the front. 

***

"We should start slow." Moses had insisted, after what had felt like hours and hours of convincing conversations over several breakfasts.

Because apparently these talks were inappropriate for the bedroom, but perfectly acceptable over some Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

And so Rich found himself face down in Moses' lap. In his fear, he nearly forgot exactly what they'd said. What were the instructions again?

Moses rubbed the swell of his ass, over his underwear. Rich's packer pressed against his thigh. "Do you remember what we discussed?"

"The safe word thing?"

"Yes."

"I...yeah. It's like, uh, traffic lights."

"That's right." Moses gave his ass a small grope. "And I'll touch in with you, I'll ask you what color you're at."

Green for go. 

Yellow to slow down.

And red-

"And the moment you tell me red, I will stop. I promise."

"I know." And Rich did know. He trusted him. But- "Does this still make me vanilla?"

Moses chuckled softly. "Trust me, even Jeremy and his squip have their own safeword. It's a different structure than we're going with, but...well, I think the color structure works well for us, don't you?"

"I don't know. This is sorta new for me. What if I forget?"

"I'll take care of you."

"What if I say, like, pink or something?"

Moses laughed softly. "Do you want to stop, sunshine, and iron out the finer details? It's okay if you're not ready for this."

"No, man. Green it up."

The spanking started slow. Over his underwear. Moses would stop occasionally, between soft praise about how good Rich was doing, to question him.

"Color?"

"Green."

And then he'd pick it back up. Rich felt dizzy with it. It wasn't a bad sort of dizzy, but it was certainly new. His underwear slithered down to his ankles, and the skin of his ass felt warm, as Moses offered it another palmed slap.

Again, he was called a good boy, a handsome, strong, sweet boy, and Rich glowed nearly as red as his ass under the praise.

It was the only red thing about the first session. Because he certainly didn't tap out.

And afterwards, though Rich tried to insist he was fine, Moses held him. Cradled, warm and safe, as he told him how good he'd done.

From there, it progressed. Praise slowly turning into small degradations. Open palm spanking replaced with paddles and rulers. Blindfolds. Handcuffs. Rough sex that left Rich limping after.

Always chased by the afterglow of kisses and caresses and tender affections.

And Rich found that he didn't just put up with it. He wasn't just humoring Moses.

In fact, he realized as his wrists and feet were tucked behind him, hogtied into place, he was beginning to think he actually really fucking loved this.

***

"Ah!"

The crop brought itself down once again. It bounced against the soft swell of Rich's bust. Rich bit the inside of his cheek, as the end of the crop rubbed over the swollen lash. Rich's eyes fluttered behind the blindfold.

The crop slipped lower, abruptly raising, and smacking against Rich's stomach. The muscles of his abdomen tensed, glistening with sweat from the strenuous nature of this punishment.

Punishment. Funishment. Pfunishment. Words blended together and Rich was having trouble grasping at meaning again.

The end of the riding crop dipped between his legs. Rich's focus continued to drift from clamped nipples, to his dildo-filled cunt. His teeth moved from his cheek to his lip again.

Excitement thrilled in him as the crop rose, then abruptly smacked between his legs, exploding against his clit.

Rich's already limited vision spiraled into small pinpricks of light. His thighs attempted to clench together instinctively, hands shaking with the primal urge to protect his groin, but everything prevented him from action.

The crop rubbed against him. "Color?" Moses asked.

"G..." Rich trailed off. His tongue felt sticky and uncomfortable in his mouth. Sweat poured from his pores. "Yellow," He confessed, dirty and guilty.

He heard the bed squeak as Moses set aside the crop, moving up his body. He kissed along his jawline, softly cradling his arms around his waist.

"You're doing so good, baby boy. You're taking your punishment so well."

"Thank you, sir." Rich melted. That was it. That was what he needed. He just needed to know he was doing this right.

That, or maybe the pussy torture was just a little much.

Moses dropped his hand between his legs. He kneaded his clit between his knuckles, as his other hand teased at his clamped nipples, occasionally squeezing the entirety of his breast. He kissed him, slowly, and Rich melted against the bed, liquid sensation.

When Moses finally drew away, Rich heard him retrieve something. He expected the riding crop again.

Instead, light feathers began to tickle up his body.

The contrast of the tickler, feathery and airy and tender, compared to the harsh dig of the clamps, or the solid immobility of the dildo, was almost startling. Rich gasped, as Moses moved the toy along his body.

It touched into his armpit, and the tickling of it brought a startled giggle from him. Rich squirmed, though the binding allowed him no escape except to simply bear it. The toy tickled across his chest, only to tease the other armpit.

It danced down his body, wriggling against his ribs. Rich's laughter grew more manic, crazed, tears clinging to his lashes from the complete loss of control. 

"Color?"

"Green!" Rich squealed through the haze of torturous laughter. The toy swirled over his stomach, skipping his cunt altogether, to tease his inner thighs. It was an explosion of ticklish parts that Rich had never realized held such sensitivity.

And then he was running the feathers over his feet. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!

Rich's toes curled, uproarious, uncontrollable laughter aching over him. His body clenched around the toy, and his nipples ached as each laugh shook his chest, disturbing the clamps. It was a torture unexpected, sadistic in a new way, and he wasn't certain how much more he could take.

Finally, when he was certain he'd pass out from the lack of oxygen, Moses relented on the tickling. He moved up, teasing the feathers against his still-aching clit. The sensation wasn't ticklish here, though perhaps that was due to Moses' less frenzied approach. He circled it over him.

"Don't cum," Moses purred.

It was soothing, and tantalizing, and Rich's feet, still tingling from the tickling, curled as his body attempted to press up towards the feathers. 

He traced it, away from his clit, to the carefully trimmed hairs that lined his skin. He petted them along the grain, soothing skin inflamed from the earlier cunt spanking he'd afforded him. Everything felt sensitive, receptive, to his attentions.

Rich groaned, grateful, as he fluttered the toy over his clit again. It wasn't enough pressure to get him off, not really, but it was such a lovely tease that he wouldn't have been too upset to be strung along for a little while.

Moses kept the pressure edging upward, stopping occasionally to flick the tickler over his sore nipples instead. Rich moaned desperately, every bit of his skin longing for anything Moses had to dish out.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," Moses leaned in, biting the swell of Rich's hip. He drew out the bite, bruising him. Rich sighed gratefully.

"I want you to fuck me, sir."

"Hm," Moses said thoughtfully. "I don't know if I believe you."

"Please fuck me?"

"I don't think you want it bad enough. Maybe I should just throw you out, find some better whore, someone who knows how to ask for my cock."

He heard the bed shift again, and Rich's heart raced. Even if logically he knew Moses wouldn't leave him, wouldn't replace him, the prospect here and now left him desperate.

And worse than that, he wouldn't get any of that good dick. 

"Sir, please! Please, sir, I need you. I need your cock. Please fuck me. I wanna be your cocksleeve. Nothing but a cunt for you to use. Please, let me be your slut. Let me be yours. Only yours. Please fuck me, sir. Please! I need you!"

Rich trembled against the bed. He felt fingers move over his throat, cradling it more so than squeezing it.

Moses kissed him again. Harder this time, tongue and teeth, easily overpowering Rich's mouth.

"Fine," He breathed against him. "I'll fuck you. Because you're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. I'm yours."

***

Shopping for toys, Moses stopped, turning around as they approached the cash register.

"We don't have to do this," He said softly. He placed his hand against Rich's cheek, and smiled as Rich nuzzled against him. "I don't want to hurt you if-"

"Come on," Rich's ass ached from their session earlier this morning. His cunt throbbed as he thought of it, as he looked at their basket of supplies that Moses had carefully vetted, researched, compared and studied for sturdiness, safety, ease of use. 

He couldn't wait to show Jeremy his own wrist marks. 

Better yet, he couldn't wait to feel them for himself. A thrill ran through him, as he placed his hand atop Moses', still pressed against his cheek. 

"You're not going vanilla on me now, Mo, are you?"

Moses leaned down, kissing Rich softly, before placing the basket onto the counter for the cashier to check them out. "Not on your life."

***

The toy left a trail of wetness as Moses pulled it out. Rich swore he could feel himself gaping from the size of it, and he anxiously awaited Moses' touch.

But he grabbed his blindfold instead.

Rich's eyes closed to avoid the sudden onslaught of light, as the cloth was pulled away from his face. Gingerly, he opened them, peering at Moses curiously.

Moses' expression was stern, one hand moving between his own legs to give his hard cock a stroke. The head of his cock glistened with precum.

"I want you to see," He said. "I want you to watch how I use you."

Rich nodded mutely, as Moses slipped closer, between his spread legs. He held onto himself at the base of his cock, and ran himself up and down his slit, and he wasn't sure who was getting more wet, himself with Mo’s precum, or Moses' skin with Rich's arousal. It seemed to meld together, much like everything else. The boundaries of their bodies. Pain and pleasure. Everything just melding together into something new. Just like words themselves. All Rich knew was it was all sensation, and he couldn't separate himself from it even if he wanted to.

Moses pressed himself into Rich's body, one sharp thrust until he was fully submerged in him. 

"Green," Rich said as Moses' eyes met him. Smiling, speaking the word before Moses could even say it. "Green green, fucking emerald, green, so much fucking green, holy fucking green, Mo, holy fuck. I mean sir."

For a moment, Moses' facade broke, a little laugh escaping him. He slapped Rich after, but it was a smaller bit of pain than the earlier hits. He body moved within him, one hand pressing against his throat, the other occasionally tugging at the nipple clamps. Rich whined, the room smelling of sex and sweat, and he tried to raise his hips to meet him, but found he couldn't control himself much at all.

All he could do was take it. And take it he certainly did, inch after magnificent inch, thrust after soulshaking thrust. Every which way Moses fucked him left him aching for breath. He wheezed, mouth open for every mouthful he could get, only to have Moses smother his lips with his own, biting his lip when Rich tried to return it.

Proving once again that he was nothing but a series of holes for Moses to use and abuse as he saw fit.

Rich's heart fluttered happily.

He came without permission, the sensation tearing through his weary body. Everything strobed and flashed around him, as Moses clutched his hips and doubled over him. Moses' breath was ragged, each moan nearly whining. He sounded incredible, and even in his haze, his delirium, Rich took pride in the fact that these sounds were thanks to Rich himself, that he'd brought him this pleasure.

The sensation of him cumming inside him left Rich closing his eyes, savoring this new fullness.

They slumped over each other for several moments, catching their breaths, reminding themselves of their own sense of selves.

***

"And no matter what, if you need to stop, you'll say so, right?"

Moses looked at him so intensely that Rich almost backed out for his sake, rather than his own. Moses seemed so nervous, trembling.

He stroked a hand over his forearms. "Of course."

"I'm serious, Richard. Promise me."

"I promise!" Rich held out his wrists. "So cuff me."

Moses laughed softly, kissing his forehead, and shaking his own head. "Sluts don't tell their masters how to begin, sunshine. Now assume the position so we can start."

***

The clamps burned as Moses released them, and finally Rich found himself free of any restraints or toys. His shaky hands rose, the outlines of his wrists bruised and aching, as he rubbed at his chest.

"Holy shit," Rich's voice cracked. He felt...

Pain, certainly. Especially in his back, and in his nipples, and in muscles in his thighs that he hadn't even realized he had. 

And pleasure, dizzying, eyesight wriggling pleasure. He struggled to keep his eyes open, though they felt nearly as full as the rest of him.

Moses carefully wiped a rag between his legs, softly cleaning him up, but he paused. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Wait. Am I supposed to say a color?"

Moses kissed just below his belly button. "No, sweetie, not unless you want to."

"Okay." Rich lifted his arms, placing them around Moses' neck, as Moses' body moved up his own. Moses rolled over, pulling Rich onto his chest. His back briefly clung to the sheets, dried blood pasting him in place before he was loosened and moved.

Rich whimpered quietly, but nuzzled up against Moses' neck. "I know I need to clean up, but can we just lay here awhile?"

"Of course."

He wanted to reaffirm that needing to be held didn't make him vanilla. But his eyelids were already beginning to close once again.

Moses' hands gingerly moved up and down his back. After a bit of rest, they would move onto a warm bath, to soothing lotions and ointments, to bedtime stories and snacks.

But for right now, Rich needed a splash of vanilla, after so much spice.


End file.
